


Stress Relief

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Dorks in Love, M/M, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: “I thought we would get some snacks now,” Bram says with his lips in Simon’s hair, “but I’m certainly not complaining about your decision.”“You’re a snack,” Simon responds cheesily, and he can practically hear the smile in Bram’s laughter that resounds seconds later, hanging beautifully in the air around them even after he closes his mouth and stops running his fingers tauntingly against Simon’s arm.





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post-movie/book; I've only seen the movie and read "Simon vs." so if there's any brief setting or time references that was explored differently in the other Simonverse/Creekwood books, that's why! I've meaning to get around to reading the other books but I've been too busy reading textbooks for school, unfortunately.

Simon likes the quiet. So does Bram.

It’s renewing, especially after a long day of being at school and hearing the constant chatter of everyone else’s lives. The drama and gossip about who has the same yearbook quote or prom dress feels entirely insignificant when they’re graduating in a few mere months and saying goodbye to the familiarity of their lives so soon. 

    “We’re all going to seem the same to each other eventually,” Simon says, a bit cynically, one day when he and Bram are laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “We’ll go to college and get jobs and some of us will move away and some of us will stay here. It’s inevitable, and in five, ten, twenty years, none of us are going to care if certain girls wore the same high heels underneath their prom dress.”

Bram lets out a gentle scoff at that. “Speak for yourself, I’ll definitely care. And I’m sure Leah will, too.”

He’s joking, of course, as Leah couldn’t care less about the prom. She’s been complaining about their seniority and all the hype that comes along with it for almost the duration of the semester, but she’s still going along with the traditions, just because she can. They all are. 

Lately, after school, this kind of simplicity is what Simon and Bram have been relishing in. They rest together, sometimes in silence, sometimes with music and sometimes with their own chattering overpowering everything and anything else around them, and it’s easily become both their favorite parts of the day. 

On the days when Bram has doctor’s appointments or Simon has to drive Nora somewhere, they’ll both do this on their own whenever they get the chance, even if that’s right before they sleep. Technically, it’d probably make more sense to do this before bed every day, like a kind of meditation; Simon reflects on this fact every time his eyelids flutter shut, coaxed into sleepiness by the softness of his bedsheets against his cheek and the overwhelming abundance of homework in the space beside him. Bram kisses him awake every time, laughing against his lips when he’s rolled onto his back by his boyfriend who’s suddenly wide awake.

It’s midterms week, but Simon has declared they take a ten minute break after what must have been at least two consecutive hours of studying. Simon’s idea of a break, of course, includes not leaving the bed and attaching himself against Bram’s side.

    “I thought we would get some snacks now,” Bram says with his lips in Simon’s hair, “but I’m certainly not complaining about your decision.” 

    “You’re a snack,” Simon responds cheesily, and he can practically hear the smile in Bram’s laughter that resounds seconds later, hanging beautifully in the air around them even after he closes his mouth and stops running his fingers tauntingly against Simon’s arm. 

_ Like a symphony,  _ Simon muses,  _ like he was made to touch me.  _

His lips quirk up into a smile at his own thoughts. Yeah, if Bram could read his mind he’d never hear the end of it. He’s so in love, even he finds it disgusting sometimes.

    “I have a question,” Bram asks a few minutes later when Simon’s busy pressing lazy kisses against his collarbones and enjoying it far too much. 

    “Did you ever worry,” he asks, “about when we met...if…” 

    “I was starting to think we’d never get to meet,” Simon replies snidely before he can finish, and Bram nudges his shoulder, shutting him up. They’ve been through this before. 

    “Did you ever worry,” Bram starts again, “that we wouldn’t be attracted to each other when we met?”

Simon hums out a “no” and peppers another kiss against Bram’s chest.

    “Well, that makes me sound vain.”

    “No, it’s reasonable,” Simon replies, quick to ease his worries. “Really, it does. And I guess I thought about it sometimes, but I was too busy swooning over your emails to ever entertain the idea that you weren't the guy of my dreams.”

He sits up then, repositioning himself so that he can see him better. 

    “Besides,” he adds, “I was kind of banking on the fact that you were.”

Bram grins, flattered, and flushes an adorable shade of pink. “Same here.”

They meet in the middle for the kiss, knowing how to move around each other as effortlessly s breathing. It’s anticipated, maybe even typical, when Bram’s hand comes up to frame Simon’s cheek and draw out the kiss— not that Simon needs any further persuasion to keep his tongue inside his boyfriend’s mouth— and though it’s become routine for them, it doesn’t stop the butterflies that flutter ruthlessly around in his stomach.

Eventually, Bram is the one to pull away, but he keeps his hand on Simon’s cheek, smoothing his way down his neck to rest on his shoulder. 

    “But I think I was a lot more anxious about the whole meeting thing than you were,” he says.

    “I highly doubt that.”

    “You sat yourself on a Ferris wheel and didn’t leave for three hours until I showed up!” Bram exclaims. “I don’t even want to imagine how much money those ride tickets cost you.”

Simon grimaces. “A lot,” he admits. “But clearly it was worth it.”

Bram visibly softens at that. He smiles again, dimples showing as his eyes brighten, and it honestly takes all of Simon’s strength to  _ only  _ kiss him back in response. He reels him in by the collar of his shirt, fingers closing tight around the fabric, and he wants nothing more than to roll them over, to pull Bram’s shirt away from his chest, to press his lips to his cheeks and his jaw and his neck and even further down, but his parents are downstairs, cooking dinner that he knows will be ready soon. Not to mention, his bedroom door is cracked open— he mentally curses himself for not closing it all the way earlier— and he’d never live down the shame if Nora were to walk past and even catch the slightest glimpse of them doing anything more than chastely kissing. Simon visibly shudders at the thought. 

Bram must know what he’s thinking of, because he tears away from Simon’s lips with a displeased whine and then settles back against the bed, flopping his head onto Simon’s pillow. 

    “Maybe when we finish our homework we can go for a drive,” he offers, and Simon doesn’t even have to look at him to know there’s a wicked grin etching its way across his face. “You know, for stress relief.”

He mirrors his expression and nods. “A  _ long  _ drive,” he agrees, and it’s this thought that keeps him motivated enough to finish the rest of his homework in the next forty-five minutes, not stopping even once to check his phone for any texts from their friends about prom drama. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr under the same username, sweeterthankarma, where I'm always swooning over my favorite fandoms.


End file.
